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 |  Mulling, culling, and musing the confusing... in Blog format. |
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** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** I stand in awe of life's predisposition for imploding, swiftly morphing into a churning, perilous vortex that mankind is hard-pressed to navigate, let alone survive. Maintaining a foothold and emerging from the gales unscathed seems wholly contingent upon survivors' personal philosophies, capacity for tolerance, and coping skills. Without these, the vortex becomes the portal to a toxic black void, and man stands naked in the spiralling eddy, awaiting the final flush.** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Monsters Evil incarnate to their kind gives rise, their nourishment found in blood-curdling fear; horror-swept dreamscapes they stalk in disguise, unleashing terror, they draw ever near. Defiled wombs in hell to their kind give birth to seek symbiosis with souls in need; in lost and rejected spirits on earth ~ on their very marrow, such monsters feed. Iced are their fingers and vacant, their stare, black are their hearts, sustained by putrid breath; sucking the lifeblood imperilled souls share to spew forth their spawn of hatred and death. But they may not linger where Faith abides... for Hope's children fear not their raging tides. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** The mission of this journal is to examine life issues that precipitate the storms and seek out the balms that soothe the wounds they inflict. It is my fervent hope that philosophically autopsying life issue outcomes will provide comfort in the midst of chaos and a keenly longed-for measure of inner peace. Bear in mind, dear Reader, that the thoughts to follow are only musings and by no means assertions of right or wrong. They are but a reflection of one soul's yearning to ascend from the roots of life to its flowering branches and taste of the fruits found therein. How, if at all, savory their flavors are deemed to be and whether or not they become a staple in one's spiritual diet is left to each reader's own palate. The journey thus begins...
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| It's intriguing, just how intensely seemingly inconsequential childhood (and adulthood, for that matter) experiences can influence what most fulfills, enriches, and brings us joy in life. I'm in the middle of taking a five day vacation, devoted entirely to getting the front yard, back forty, and veggie and flower/perennial gardens in order. Raking, pruning like a madwoman, deep-digging yard after square yard of soil, watering, installing a small pond with fountains and two tier-fountained birdbaths, and planting more seeds than Carter has liver pills... all are tasks I'm happily undertaking from dawn to dusk these few days past. And I'm loving every back-breaking minute of it. At first light, I'm like a kid on Christmas, hurrrying outside to see what seedlings have emerged and what progress yesterday's youngsters have made. At dusk, I wile away a delicious couple of hours each night watching the phenomenal Texas sunsets, captivated by the heat lightning displays as night falls and listening to the song "How Great Thou Art" in my head and the lullabye of trickling water in the pond and fountains. The aroma of freshly dug and watered richly fertile soil is an intoxicating perfume for me, even as my eyelids grow heavy from the labor it required to get to this magical spiritual place. In that oasis, all troubles float away and absolutely nothing else matters, save the wealth of input with which my senses are gifting me. Soon there will be glorious hues to behold everywhere, and the beauty of the birds, hummers, butterflies, and bees my bumper crop of marigolds, morning glories, four-o-clocks, daisies, canna, and flowering groundcover gardens will invite to frolick within. Soon, too, will there be the added delight of decorative guords, ornamental maize corn, pumpkins of all sizes, summer and winter squash, cucumbers, zucchini, beefstake and cherry tomatoes, and swiss chard ripening to a lucious finale, each awaiting their place on my dinner table or in canning jars tucked away for the coming autumn and winter months. Some won't even make it to my kitchen, for I'll surely, as I've always done in seasons past, pluck a few directly from the vine, salt shaker in hand.  As with nearly every single one of my passions ~ and Lord knows they are many in number ~ my love of gardening and landscaping finds its origins in a momentous childhood experience. It grew, quite literally, from a single sown seed... a science project in which I participated with rapt fascination in the first grade. Our teacher, God bless her dear soul, was huge on "hands on" learning... and more enthusiastic still about sharing her love of all things nature with her liliputian charges. One May day, she arrived in our classroom laden with an armload of flourescent lights, paper Dixie cups, potting soil, tiny watering cans, and... wonder of wonders... several packets of bean seeds. Yup ~ plain old, nuttin'-fancy-schmancy-at-the-moment-but-you-just-wait-and-see-what-happens lima bean seeds. Big, fat ones. One for each of we students, with a few to spare in the event of accidents, misfortunes, and assorted false starts for which children of that age group are famous. First, we spread out newspapers on our desks to render clean-up efforts less extensive later. Then we carefully pushed four holes in the bottom of our Dixie cup with our fat, first grade pencil tips and filled the cups 3/4 full with potting soil. Once this was done, Teacher showed us how to plant our bean seed one inch deep, with the eye pointed downward. She explained that from the eye, the very first tap root would emerge, and that is why it was important that ot be aimed downward into the soil. Most of my classmates took moderate degrees of interest in that fact... I found it absoluting fascinating. We crayoned our names on our cups, placed them on lunch trays in the window sill near the florescent lights, and awaited our turn to water our project. After cleaning up our desks and disposing of leftover sheets of newspaper and associated spillage, Teacher told us all about how the planted seeds absorb water, how this triggers them to make baby plants, and how the plants lift their heads from the earth to greet the light. She told us about photosynthesis and about how plants return fresh oxygen to the atmosphere around them, and she taught us about how the baby plants grow, mature, bear flower or fruit, and make seeds of their own so that the cycle may continue, unbroken, with the coming of the next spring. I was enthralled... ...so much so that I came home to Mama chattering like a magpie about my baby seed getting ready to "get born", and could barely get to sleep when bedtime came because I was so excited to get back to school the next morning to see what had happened in my cup overnight. Teacher was wise in many ways, not the least of which was her phenomenal insight into first-graders' "need for speed" when it comes to coping with anticipation and waiting for things to happen. Hence, her selection of the fast-emerging lima bean for us to "parent". Just before leaving school that second day, I noticed something was happening... a tiny little bulge had appeared in the soil's surface! By the end of Day Three, I was ecstatic to see that a stem had lifted up my bean, now swollen to fully twice its size when I'd planted it and splitting in half to reveal two perfect leaves nestled within! The days of course passed, each bringing new, positively thrilling developments as we watched our plants grow. Then one day, school was out for the year and I joyfully brought my bean plant home to transplant into a tiny patch I'd dug in the back yard. I eventually harvested five whole pods from that plant ~ and no lima bean since has ever tasted more delicious that the ones to be found in those precious five pods. Five decades hence, the memory of that first grade planting day... and all the magical post-planting days ensuing... shines as brilliantly vivid in my mind's eye as it was when I experienced it. The classroom adventure ignited a passion that will forever course through my veins... one which bestows more inner peace, joy, and serenity than mere words can describe. Thank you, Miss Hill... thank you, always and forever, from the bottom of a gardener's heart. |
| June 13th is always a difficult day for me, particularly when it falls upon a Friday. My beautiful brother, Kirk, who we were only blessed to have on earth 33 short years, was born on Friday, June 13, 1958. This past Friday, I came home from work to discover that Tim Russert, Moderator of "Meet the Press" for 17 years and the author of two phenomenal books, Big Russ and Me and The Wisdom of Our Fathers, had collapsed with a massive heart attack just after taping voice-overs for today's scheduled Father's Day episode of "Meet the Press", at the NBC studios in New York City. Despite Herculean attempts to rescusitate him, "Little Russ" passed away a month after his 58th birthday. Not only was Russert a consummate political journalist and interviewer, he was, far more importantly, a magnificent human being. He was a keenly intelligent and insightful man, and hugely admired by his journalistic colleagues at every level above and below his particular station in the profession. From the loftiest network giants to those who worked for Russert as apprentices, Russert was respected and beloved by all, and was known for his loyalty and genuine concern for they and their families both as a co-worker and as a sincerely caring friend. Of the plethora of characteristics I've admired immensely about this man for over a decade now, that which stands out most for me is his genuiness. What you saw was what you got - and that, my friends, was something more special than words can describe. He was a journalist, yes... "Meet the Press", Russert's son, Luke, said yesterday, was his father's "second son". But Russert was first and foremost a superb human being who fervently loved his own father and mother, his wife, Maureen, and son, Luke, his friends, his country, and his fellow man. It's been said of Tim Russert that children - even the most shy and reticent among them - instantly bonded with him. I think that's probably because little children have a sixth sense about truly good people... children, fresh as they are from the Hand of God, are untainted and tend to migrate toward basic goodness and decency. And Tim Russert, his boyishness and simplistic zest for life forever alive within his marvellous persona, was the very embodiment of both qualities. He was real - on camera and off. God has called a great, great treasure away from our midst... and holds him close now in His loving embrace. I dearly hope that Kirk gets a chance to meet Russert there. It's comforting to contemplate those two particular quiet heroes crossing paths in a better world. ~ QUOTE FOR THE DAY ~ " Above all else... integrity. " In memory of and highest regard for Timothy J. Russert, 1950 ~ 2008 |
This is ace WDC Tattler Bugle Gazette Herald Investigative Reporterette, Blabbigale McGilicuddy-Trump-Vanderbilt-Hearst, coming to you live from Deelyte- Chillin'   's lush green backyard retreat, located deep in the left truncated ventricle of Texas, with a hot-off-the-press, tell-all newsflash regarding one of Writing.com's vampiest little scamps, Texas Belle and all around Bushbaby Fatale Deelyte- Chillin' !!!Dee, we understand that your beloved husband G (the G is silent - guffaw!), following a drunken night of kareokee-ing and mechanical bull neutering, inadvertently tripped, plummeted face first onto your love mound, and located your G-spot for the very first time this evening past. They're calling it The Spot Heard 'Round the World ! Inquiring minds want to know, Li'l Mizz Thang Dee-Dee Didey.... how did you react regarding this moundumental - ahem - U.D.D. (Unanticipated Digital Discovery) on Hubby's part? |
| The other day, I heard a person who considers herself a close friend of the parents of a newborn baby with Down's Syndrome lament... "I feel so sorry for them... [the new parents]... they so wanted a perfect little boy." The first reactionary thought that lept to mind regarding her utterance was, "some friend you are." Following close on its heels, however, was a vivid recollection of an episode of the old T.V. program, "The Twilight Zone" that has never left my stream of consciousness, even with the passage of decades hence... The episode was shot almost exclusively from the perspective of those looking upon a woman whose head and face are swathed in heavy bandages. She is recumbent in a hospital bed, and in typical Rod Serling style, the viewing audience is made privy to her thoughts, as well as to the ensuing conversations held between she and attending hospital staff members, several of whom are gathered at her bedside. Initially, her thoughts reflect exceeding fear and trepidation that this, a second, last ditch surgical effort to make her look normal, will not be successful. If not, she will be banished to live out her remaining, futiley hopeless lifespan with other similarly disfigured outcasts rejected by a society tolerant of nothing short of physical comeliness. The camera never leaving her face, we then hear medical personnel gathered 'round her bedside offering inane words of reassurance, seeking without much resolve to offer her hope, the hesitancy in their inflection signalling their own doubts about what they are saying. As the camera zooms in on the patient's face, the Doctor's hands enter the frame and begin unwrapping her bandages. All the while, you hear her thoughts and silent prayers for a miracle in terms of her surgical outcome. Finally, the camera closing in for a very tight shot, the last of the bandages come away... revealing the patient's flawlessly beautiful countenance. While still trying to assimilate what this all means, the baffled viewing audience hears gasps and the shuffle of feet as the medicos in the room collectively react and recoil in horror. Terror flashes in the patient's eyes as she looks at each of them, taking from their reaction that she is doomed. For the very first time, the camera pans away from her lovely face... and focuses, one by one, on the shocked countenances of the others individuals present in her room. Each of them ~ nurses, orderlies, and even the doctor ~ has a face that appears to be a cross between a human being and a pig. Yet each of them stares with expressions of repugnance mixed with pity at the lovely woman lying in the bed. Serling was a master at making his viewers stop and think... at slamming us head-on into brick walls of our own arrogant making. The wall in this particular Twilight Zone can be distilled into one assertion: "beauty" and "perfection" are but nebulous concepts, foundational upon a house of cards. They are wholly reliant upon some set of random standards that some ill-defined group of individuals have arbitrarily determined to be the only avenues by which they may be attained. In short, they're defined by someone else's rules... someone else's dictates... someone else's perception... of what is worthy of being treasured and what is not. Apparently Matthew's parents' "friend" is one of those "somebodies". Aside from being a flaming anal orifice, she is woefully misinformed. God does not make mistakes... and Matthew is a cherished and perfect little boy. |
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Their birth a thing past, their childhood waning... Spring's babies, infants no more. First blush surrenders to adulthood's bloom, swaying to solsticed rhythms. Resplendent, adorned in glorious raiments... hiding sweet secrets within. Spring's quickstep becomes Summer's sultry waltz, bees keeping time to the tune. Aroused by the touch of the sun's hot breath, Mother Earth's breast languishes; those at it suckling hear her soft whisper... a promise anew conceived. Unfurling stamens seed every breeze; gestating pleasures await. Their time soon coming... ripened legacy. The cycle of life complete. |
| Ye-OW-zah, it's been sizzlin' hot in my neck of the woods! Yesterday, after a solid 9-day string of 100-plus temperatures, we finally experienced a "cold snap"... it's actually been in the mid- to low nineties these two days past. But nuttin' comes without a price in these parts, meterologically speaking... the humidity spiked and it still feels like I'm slugging my way through each day trapped in an Easy Bake oven.  . My room air conditioner is contemplating going out on strike, but thus far has settled for protesting via groans, chokes, slurps, and various other demonstrated forms of mechanical flatulence. As long as she keeps fartin' cool air, though, I'm not springin' for repairs or a replacement... Which brings me to my source of earned income, Goliath. Little has changed, I regret to report, regarding G's attitude and S.O.P. ... what has been significantly and forever altered is the appreciably lowered setting on my B.S. tolerance meter. I've discovered that the key to dealing with Goliath and all his evil managerial/corporate minions is to politely but with minimal tolerance for nonsense take names, kick butt, take no crap, and take no prisoners. It's finally dawned on me that I need only continue doing what I've always done, being, as I am, a graduate of the "old school" of Decency and Ethics... I'll go right on giving them 110 percent of my talents, dedication to excellence, and high standard of work ethics, and when ( how I wish I could honestly say "if" ) Goliath tries to play fast and loose with respect, morals, ethics, and decency, I'll continue putting my foot down when I know he's clearly in the wrong. In short, boys, I'll be ~ albeit with utmost dignity and professionalism ~ passing out lollipops and court-ordered ass-woopin's... and I'm all out of lollipops. The worst they can do is fire me... and if they do, it will be on illegitimate grounds and I'll fight 'em every inch of the way. How sad it is that a corporation as vast and with as many resources at its fingertips as this one cannot see the forest for the trees - even when you obligingly supply it with binoculars and a road map. In Goliath's case, his only armor, until now, has been his penchant for B.S.'ing, finessing, cowing, and intimidating the employees on whose backs he stands to claim his lofty position in the corporate world. But a growing number of those bearing his jackbooted footprints on our backs are taking note of the many chinks in that armor... and realizing with unwavering certainty that the Emperor, in truth, is wearing no clothes... and far more vulnerable to a mighty fall than he would have us know. We're on to his plans to wean our numbers through attrition, whittling away at our benefits, and deplorable work conditions in order to close us down and pay as little severance as possible. We're on to the motives behind his utter indifference toward and blatant disrespect for the employees from whom he demands precisely the opposite... the same employees responsible for the greatness in which he's presently basking. We're also on to the fact that we have the power to bring him to his knees by besting him at his own game... and one weapon in our arsenal is to expose him to the general public he so obsessively, albeit deceitfully, seeks to impress. Now having a tensile- strength occupational back-up plan in place, I'm almost looking forward to Goliath ignorantly and arrogantly continuing to trample our rights... and relishing bearing witness to his ultimately paying an appreciable adjudicated price for it. Last but certainly not least... what the HELL is going on with our Democracy when it comes to the popular vote, folks? First the Elctoral College helps GeeDUHbayah steal the Presidency from Gore.... now, the Delegate system helps Obama steal the Presidential nomination from Hillary Clinton. Silly me... I still believe "democracy" should mean that when it comes to elections, the popular vote majority should rule.  . In all honesty, this revoltin' electoral development has really put me in a politico-intellectual (if, in fact, those two concepts are not inherently mutually exclusive) quandry, . I'm extremely shaky on the idea of an Obama presidency for reasons I've blogged about at length in past entries... but shakier still at the mere thought of putting McCain in the Oval Office. Just what this country needed - another Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea Presidential Election. If Obama doesn't tap Hillary Clinton as his running mate, I'm seriously contemplating moving to Sweeden. ( Wouldn't AL have a hissy fit iffen ah did ?!?! )  Well, that's all the news what is the news for now in my little corner of the Lonestar State. Ima gonna have to toddle off and give my air conditioner anudder profanity-laced pep talk... |
| So I'm perusing an area newspaper yesterday, and come across an article entitled, "Is faith necessary to lead a good life?", the byline of which read, Religious leaders from the Kansas City, Missouri, area answer this question". One such "religious leader", The Reverend Fran T. Cary, pastor of Trinity A.M.E. Church in Kansas City, Kansas, entitled her reply, "Why take a chance?" In her ensuing 8-paragraph response, Reverend Cary made comments such as, ...When people tell me that they lead "moral" lives but don't ascribe to religion, I ask, 'How is that possible? What is the basis for your morals?'. ...For those who say there is no need to attend church, temple, and so forth, I ask, "Where do you gain the knowledge to continue living morally?" and my personal "favorite"... ...Many people don't believe this, but one day Jesus will return. Every eye shall see him and there will be great weeping. Those who only lived moral or even spiritual lives will be lost. I wouldn't take that chance. Please allow me a moment for rebuttal, Reverend... First of all - the question was "Is faith necessary to lead a good life?" Apparently, you equate "faith" exclusively with "religion" and attending and receiving instruction from "church, temple, and so forth", a premise I find seriously flawed at best ~ and at worst, a clear demonstration of ministerial egocentricity on you part. If, as you purport, all who have "lived only moral and perhaps even spiritual lives will be lost" when Jesus returns, what happens to Jewish folks who have met your standard for salvation by means of attending temple, yet do not happen to view Jesus as the Christ? What happens to folks like me, who walked away from all the "man" injected into "religion"... while worshipping the Almighty takes a back seat to gossip, backstabbing, and hypocrisy? Those who've opted to keep their faith sacred between the only parties who really matter where matters of faith are concerned ~ themselves and their God? Pardon me, Right Reverend Fran, but I've witnessed enough pomposity, egotism, and unyielding judgmentalism on the part of more than my share of "religious leaders" ~ and many an alleged "Christian" member of their their assorted congregations ~ and decided to keep my deep faith and spirituality between myself and my Creator, relying upon Him... and NO mortal, usually flawed human... to guide, teach, and lead me in His ways. Furthermore, I must admit ~ your above noted comments and the attitude they illustrate constitutes another large part of the reason why. A "minister" who asserts that he or she believes that church attendance/religious instruction is a prerequisite for leading a good life... because he/she "doesn't want to take the chance" of "being lost when Jesus returns"... is NOT my idea of someone to be sought out and counted upon for religious instruction. It instead tells me that your "faith" represents playing for the best odds as opposed to leading a life guided by an unconditional acceptance of and love for the Almighty. And the fact that such ministers' congregations apparently feel otherwise is not eactly comforting to contemplate, either. Who died and made you God's Official Spokesperson? |
Hey, Gang.... |
| Did you feel the earth move yesterday? I ask because the heretofore unthinkable has happened... I ORDERED MY VERY FIRST CELLPHONE !!! Actually, two - one for me and one for Bunkie. We have a FREE Employee plan - one for 1000 mins. (mine) and another we can give to a loved one for 500 mins. I got us both DIGITAL CAMERA PHONES - OH, YEAH ! - at 95.00 bucks apiece (Nokia 6085 or sumpin' like that). They have far more bells and whistles that I cared about - but they have cams and I got us both carrying cases and USP port connectors. I cannot WAIT to start sending the Bunkmeister, Deelyte, Mary Boo Who and anyone else who's interested e-mailed digital pics! I added only one option I'll have to pay for monthly - 9.99 per month per each phone for unlimited AT&T mobile to mobile calling - for 20.00 monthly (we don't even have to pay the taxes and fees, etc.) I'm set for unlimited long or short distance yackety-yack time! I'm being drug into the 21st Century - and not screaming and kicking NEARLY as emphatically as I once did about the whole thing. I even have a plan for dragging the kicking/screaming Bunkmeister into the Age of Technology with me - he's a very thrifty man and would NEVER turn down a phone I'll swear I cannot return... and a price plan of 10.00 monthly for UNLIMITED mobile--to-mobile!!! Given that we talk about three to four hours by phone (long distance - he's in Ohio) WEEKLY... BOY, WHATTA DEAL!!! Well, the Lunch Hour is done - back to the mill! Happy Holiday Weekend! |
| The new work schedules are out for Third Quarter - starting June 1, I'm going to a coveted (only 15 available in the entire staff schedule bid list) ten-by-four schedule; i.e., 10 hours per day, four days per week. I'll be working from 8:00 AM to 7:15 P.M. on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Fridays, and 8:15 AM to 7:15 P.M. on Saturdays, with Wednesdays (they do not pay for lunch hour or our two 15 minute breaks, more's the pity), with Thursdays, and Sundays off. OMG, that will be super for me! I'm the kinda person who, once I get somewhere, would prefer staying there a coupla extra hours in exchange for an "extra day off" per week. PLUS - I'll get to park within walking distance of the building, instead of my usual spot in Bumfukt, Egypt (it's SO hard to find a shuttle camel at the hour!) - PLUS - that's ten miles a week I'll not have to drive - PLUS - this is the ONLY way my particular employer accords employees two days off in a row. (eight-by-fivers only get two days off - and almost always, the days off are split up during the week and not consecutive- yech! I need one day to rest up from work! ). ANYHOO - that's ten miles per week less in liquid gold gasoline coming out of my budget, and for that I thank the Good Lord with all my humble little heart! Lowrider has discovered how to use his long snout as a crowbar and is busily tunneling everywhere he can think of, including the deep dark recesses of my hide-a-bed sofa... and Peanut has "discovered" Lowrider! I told Peanut to back off - she should be menopausal by now and Lowrider is saving himself for his betrothed, Mizz Deelyte's Amber, now that he's gotten a good gander at her lovely breasticles! I'm shopping for a cheap camera (I forget the technical term) that takes pics you can download - Lowrider is pestering me for some glamour shots of him to send to Amber! It looks like doggie  is definitely in the air!Well, off to the grist mill... back at the lunch hour! |
Littleman LowRider, my new mini daschund son, is happily ensconced in Casa de Kelly now. (It was an incredibly brief and easy labor, I'm relieved to report -  . )He's amazingly docile for an un-neutered male, chumming it up with both his feline brothers and sisters as well as his aging sister of the canine persuasion. Granted, he does express a noticeable amount of olfactory interest in Peanut's nether regions, but he's a consummate gentleman about the whole thing and backs off respectfully when Peanut menacingly bears her gums at him. He slept curled up against my tummy last night, his little head, long nose, and floppy ears sharing my pillow. It was wondrous - Peanut is sleeps in the crook of my knees and I missed having someone nestled up to my chest and sharing a pillow. He's also very thoughtful about keeping my pillow warm for me - like my little Itty Bit long ago, the moment I rise, even if only for a minute or two... I return to find he's curled up entirely on the pillow, to be moved only by being picked up and laid back down in front of my tummy. GAWD, he's delightful, and Mama adores the breed, so he's also enjoying being the apple of his Grand-Ma-Ma's eye. He really did very well as far as not seeming to mourn his original people parents, which I am relieved to see - doggies can so mourn that they actually throw in the towel and pass away. YES, Dee - let's plan a wedding! And even a litter of mini daschies, perhaps! Now, Lowrider proved to be a bit heavier that first reported - he's about 9 and a half pounds. But he's not fat at all - he's sinewy, if you can envision that in a stretch limo of a doggie that stands 6 inches max above terra firma! But, like her people Mama, Amber needs a big strong man!  I did trell Lowrider that Amber tends to run face first into car tires, but he seemed unfazed and the information apparently took no detrimental toll on his regard and expressed interest in her from afar. ROFL!!!! . He's really quite a dashing Daschie - black with pale rust markings under his throat, and the same shade of rust eyebrows and socks. His eyebrows are adorable - very symmetrical. And his eyes are amazingly communicative - he can do quizzical, happy dance, his famous "I'm worried now", and "I've got the bigtime sleepies" expressions. His little black tail flashes continuously, except when he's falling asleep... it's fun to watch his tail fight it, then give in and gradually fall asleep right along with the rest of him. I cannot wait to get some piccies onboard - coming soon to a website near you! Off to work - see ya'll at the lunch hour! |
| No, there's not a star in the East... but the next best thing! OMG, I'm so twitterpated right now I can barely think straight, let alone type! I always come in to work about an hour or so early, and have breakfast here. I was coming out of the cafeteria, and spotted a posted notice that someone was offering, free to a good home... are you ready for this... a 2-year old MINITUARE daschound! A co-worker of mine just lost her daschound a few months ago, and I knew she was looking for a new pet, another daschie. So I ripped the notice down so I wouldnt lose the doggie to someone else and went straight to my co-worker. When she said she wanted a full size daschie, I mentally thought, YIPPEE !!!! My mother adores mini dashers and so do I - and this lil feller weighs all of 7 pounds, full grown. Turns out he belongs to the married son of a super nice Supervisor here, and they can only have two pets in their new apartment. They're gonna meet me tonight after work at 8:15 PM with little Cason, the tiny daschie! I'll prolly re-name the diminutive pooch - I imagine his new sister/galpal, Peanut will have to help me select his new handle. I'll try to post some piccies of him soon! GAWD I'm sooooo excited!!! |
| One of my kitty kiddies, Miss Kissy, (she showers my face with tongue-kisses, a habit usually noted only among those of the canine persuasion. Given the raspy natures of kitty tongues, a smooch-shower entails both a display of consummate kitty affection PLUS a free exfoliation... ), also has a penchant for Outstanding Achievement in the field of Competitive Sneezing for Distance and Mucosal Volume. LORD, that little furbaby can sneeze! And, much like human babies, the amount of nasal discharge and amazing radius/distance she can achieve in the sub-category of Propulsion is something Guinness himself would be awed by. To that end, find memorialized for your edification below my infamous and copyrighted Dear Hell-at-Ease Housekeeping Tip for the Day: " How to Clean Cat Snot off Your Computer Keyboard " 1. Allow feline snot blobs to dry undisturbed on keyboard. This significantly undermines the pesky Perpetual Smear Phenomenon. 2. Utilize above drying time to mop and blot cat's nose, whiskers, eartips, eyelashes, and face, your own be-splattered countenance, your eyeglasses, and your monitor screen with a squee-gee and a industrial size roll of super absorbent paper towels. (I find "Brawny" paper towels stand heads above the rest in these unfortunate instances - viscous cat snot causes inferior brands to disintegrate in your hand. )3. Administer an antihistamine to cat - orally in food or with peanut butter if the pet is dumb enough to fall for that gig, orally by hand if the cat is persnickety and you're feeling especially brave ~ and rectally, utilizing your own blood as a lubricant, any which way it'll go up there if the cat ripped your arm to shreds while attempting the second noted option. 4. Apply tourniquets, generous amounts of topical antibacterial agents and New Skin, and an adequate number of adhesive butterfly sutures to affected limbs/stumps, face, and/or bodily orifices, update tetanus inoculation and obtain an Rx for antibiotics in the event that any portion of Step 3 necessitates it, and Obtain Rx's for tranquilizers and mood stabilizers for yourself AND the cat. 5. Once the congealed cat snot blobs on keyboard have fully dried out, don protective gloves, goggles, and a bullet proof vest to protect hands, eyes, and thorax against hurtling dehydrated cat snot projectiles. Gas masks are optional. 6. Assemble the following array of tools (or appropriate substitutes for same): a credit or playing card, a miniature crowbar, a magnifying glass if your eyeglasses are still drying, a pair of sturdy needle-nosed tweezers, and a non-smear, black ink laundry marker. 7. Utilize card to swipe spaces between rows of keys, effectively dislodging any mucous deposited there in the initial cat blast... as well as the copious amount of cat hair that found its way into the cracks the incredibly brief span of time since your cat's last sneezing fit. (NOTE: If using a credit card, insure that the magnetic strip is UP... dehydrated cat snot residue is highly abrasive! ) Employ tweezers and tiny prying device to gently chip off remaining dried snot chunks. Hold keyboard up in the air, overturn it, and shake vigorously to dislodge and jettison any dried snot, potato chip crumbs, and residual hairballs still clinging for life to the keys. (This is where your goggles demonstrate immeasurable value in the Cat Snot Removal process.) Use marker to re-number and/or letters obliterated from keys in the initial blast. ( I TOLD you that stuff is abrasive! ) 8. Vacuum desk, carpet, your printer, hard-drive, keyboard, monitor, windows and sills, air intake ducts, your clothing and shoetops, and all other surfaces within a 1-mile radius to dispense with ASDF (Airborne Snot Dust Fallout). 9. Brush teeth, aggresively Q-tip both ears, and after loosening tourniquets to insure all hemorrhaging is under control, shower and wash hair to achieve same goal sought in step 8 as applicable to your body and associated appendages. The cat can fend for itself regarding these ablutions. 10. Instruct cat for the umpteenth time that an opposable thumb is NOT a mandatory requirement for mastery of using a handkerchief skills, or to cover its mouth and nose with a paw when proboscally challenged... or, at the very least, to sneeze into a pillow instead of High-tech electronic and/or food preparation devices. Readers' Comments/Questions... Q - "Very informative; maybe I should do something about how to return the bicolor charm of Siamese after extracting it from the chimney. A - DON'T try to BATHE it, for Gawd sake! Administer a mild sedative (to yourself AND the cat), wait for him/her to stop screaming like a banshee, then restore his/her original markings with roll-on bottles of taupe and buff liquid shoe polish. At her present shed rate, she'll replace her entire coat within the next 24 - 48 hours anyway, and you'll have saved yourself the heartbreak of paralysis, your cat's and your own sanity, a veritable fortune in Emergency Room fees, and quite possibly one or more limbs. Next Week in Ask Hell-at-Ease : How to Remove Directionally-Challenged Fire Ants from Your Middle Ear Canal. |
| YIKES ! Ima gettin' rather paranoid, heah... I mailed out three hand crochetted afghans and a package of baby gifts, each with delivery confirmation, and each prefaced with an e-mail to the recipient so they wouldn't get worried about receiving a package from an unknown real time person. The three afghans were donations to WDC auctions, the proceeds of which went to various WDC philanthropic causes. The baby gift box was for a WDC member, as well. Two of the afghans were made with custom-designated hues, according to the winner's preference; the third was made of colors I chose at the winner's request that I surprise them. All four packages arrived safely at their destinations early this week, per the Automated Post Office Delivery Confirmation system. But none of the recipients have said a word since... rut, roh! In this particular instance, I fear that no news is ominous news...  .I can't shake the paranoia that's been gradually seeping into my psyche as the days have passed... I'm worried that all four recipients are unhappy with their prizes/gifts... a personal worst strike-out record for me, if that is indeed the case. I know I'm the only dinosaur the meteor missed... perhaps folks aren't as crazy about personalized, "hand-made especially for you" items as they were in my youth. Perhaps my craftsmanship leaves much to be desired. Perhaps I've gone color blind and all my remaining "taste" is in my mouth. None of the possiblilities is very comforting... . Whichever of them applies... I've decided to replace still another crochetted gift I was about to send out with a cash, online gift certificate. I think it was Plato who said... "Ya can't go wrong with cash."  *slinks off with tail between her legs...* |
~ Thought for the Day ~ "Ideas won't keep... something must be done about them." ~ Alfred North Whitehead, English Philosopher & Mathematician |
| MOTHER'S LOVE ENDURES Many threads she deftly weaves, shimmering and true, On her childrens' tapestries, replete with burnished hues. To each of us and countless more, her heart and soul have brought... Healing love that so restores and mends wounds life has wrought Every soul her hands caress made better for the touch, Rendered whole and past the tests that sought to steal so much. So precious each, the cherished gifts and guidance her love brings, Love imbued with tenderness assuaging evil's sting. Only Mother knows my heart !~ in her life, mine finds form; Values her dear soul imparts guide me through the storms. Even when the last of us has passed to God's embrace, Each spirit Mother's heart has touched will manifest her grace. Now and then and for all time enriched by Mother's ways, Dreams and destinies divined with every passing day... Until and past infinity in Heaven and on earth ~ Rich, indeed, the tapestries my Mother's hands have worked. Each Golden thread there shimmering luminant with love; Steadfast, true, and christening the lives my Mother wove. ~ With love for my precious Mother from your adoring Kelly |
What a revoltin' development THIS is !!! ... ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** On a very special day, the angels looked upon a magic place where fairies play... the realm of Writing.Com! The two who'd built this kingdom fair, where hearts are free to dance discovered while presiding there a pure and sweet romance. The Story Master and Mistress fell very much in love, joining hands as wedding bells rang out for them above. Time passed by, and then came word... a Story Tot was coming! A baby boy named Jack, we heard, which set our heartstrings strumming. His birth to come in Spring's sweet bloom, a sun-kissed day in May, in our hearts we've each made room where he will always stay. How dear you are, wee little lad ~ how breathlessly awaited by your wondrous Mom and Dad and all to you related... by blood or by the ties that bind your virtual family, with our souls yours is entwined, infused with destiny. We wish for you, our tiny Prince, that as you thrive and grow, may the trail of your footprints through bright adventures go. |
| It's been a horrendous past ten days or so... so much so that I haven't even taken a moment to pop into WDC, let alone blog or add anything to my Port. I'm glad I signed in today, though, because doing so has given me a tremendous spiritual boost just when I most critically needed it. The first bit of joyous news was learning that a dear friend here is now back in her own set of wheels, which is wondrous to know. She has battled her way through illness and hard times and is standing stronger and stronger - and more positive and future-oriented - with every passing day. She's extremely unassuming, and no doubt has not a clue of how outstanding I find her to be... and how proud beyond measure I am of her courage, immense strength, and infalible determination, even when life throws her its toughest imaginable pitches. Then I checked in on another bud here, and find that everything I once knew her to be is coming back. Where it went for so long and why matters not - all that I needed to know and find joy in is the fact that she's coming full circle, back to the beautiful spirit I've always known her to be. Finally, nestled in my e-mail, I found a beautiful "Inspirational" merit badge and accompanying message from one of the dearest and most talented souls to ever grace WDC with her presence, Lil Miss Funnyface is happy to be back . And suddenly, in the span of less than an hour, these past two-plus weeks of trials and tribulations have been balanced out - and made far more manageable by - the unknowingly inspirational daily lives of amazing and incredible friends I hold dear within this community. I suppose some would say of all this that virtual friendships and experiences are less fulfilling than those present in our real time lives, but I don't see it that way at all. Granted, the virtual world cannot and should not ever take the place of real time... but virtual human-to-human contact is no less a treasure, just the same. Here we are far less distracted by physical appearance, "status", posessions, etc. - and far more free to speak openly and honestly in a soul-to-soul context. Here we can hear others' hearts sing - and find the music miraculous to contemplate. It's back to work for me Thursday. I thought I'd be going back tomorrow, but realized it is my regularly scheduled day off. They're keeping me on my old schedule, 11:00 AM to 8:00 P.M. (yechhh!), and my new Manager gave me little to go on regarding re-training, etc. The Human Resource Big Kahua who told me he'd get back to me about my back pay never did - and that is absolutely non-negotiable, given their unlawful termination of my employment. If they reverse their promise to give me my back pay, I'm set to file suit and seek not only recompense of lost wages, but punitive damages as well. So it will be a crap-shoot Thursday. And when it gets it crap-shootiest, I'll use the joys of this day in WDC to see me through. GAWD, I'm so proud of and happy for these friends! |
| As many of you may or may not know, our own Pride of WDC Champion Mechanical Bull Rider and Butt-plug Firing Gold Medalist in last year's Sensual Olympics, Deelyte- Chillin' , is a delegate to the Democratic Convention! I, Blabbigail Van Buren, Investigative Reporter Extraodinaire for the WDC Tattler Bugler Gazette Enquirer, have uncovered irrefutable evidence that Deelyte- Chillin' had definititive political opinions dating all the way back to infancy...Ms. Dee, what do you think of the Bush Dynasty? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ip6sz3xorFo |
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